


Slipping

by Tyranno



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, graveyards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 08:58:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7041649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyranno/pseuds/Tyranno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the darkness of Beacon hills cemetery, two boys stand in the rain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slipping

The rain trembled lightly in the breeze. The bleak headstones blended into the darkening sky. The earth was cold and grey, the grass under his feet looked washed out.

Isaac watched rain run over his father's name, cut into a standard block of granite in sharp white carvings. A few tough pieces of moss clung to the face of it.

He hadn't gone to his father's funeral. He'd meant to, he'd rented a suit and put it on, even got halfway through calling a cab before he'd stopped. Isaac had just stopped, sitting in silence for hours while, across town, his father was being put in the ground.

Isaac shifted his feet. Rain water was starting to soak into his socks.

A thick, heavy cloud was moving across the horizon. The wind tugged roughly at the trees' branches, rattling the cemetery gates and snatching at Isaac's coat.

The rain thickened. Thunder cracked in the distance and the air seemed to shake from it, like the sky was the skin of a gigantic drum.

“Want to go?” Stiles asked quietly behind him.

Isaac lifted his head. Cold water trickled down his back as he nodded.

They walked out of the graveyard and down the narrow, sloping road to a little café. Inside, it was warm and smelt of plastic and coffee and burnt eggs. The walls were lined with framed photographs of famous lacrosse players and racing car drivers. Stiles hung back to order while Isaac chose a seat that looked out across the road.

Isaac leant his head against the cool glass. He dug his cold fingers into his pocket, trying to squeeze some warmth into them.

Ever since his father died, it had felt like he was lost. Like an anchor that had been weighing him down, the binds that had trapped him had finally been snapped and suddenly he was just… drifting. The part of him that used to be so wound up in fear had vanished and he was left almost empty.

The rain beat steadily against the glass. The dark trees creaked sharply, straining against the wind.

It wasn't just that, either. He was worried about what had been done to him in the long-term. Isaac pulled his hand out of his pockets and looked at them. He was worried that he might do it to someone else.

It was almost night now, the sun sinking slowly behind the trees. The gathering darkness was a comfort, like drawing curtains. It rained.

Stiles set a drink in front of him. A milkshake topped with ice-cream and strawberries. He took a sip. Chocolate.

“Thought you might need something sweet,” Stiles said, “after… y'know.”

Isaac smiled a little, “Thank you.”

Stiles grinned, sitting opposite him. Their knees bumped. “I might need you to pay me back, though. I'm using my dad's money for these.”

“I mean, for...” Isaac glanced back up the hill, towards the graveyard.

Stiles followed his gaze and nodded. His hand slipped over Isaac's. It was warm. “Any time,” He said.


End file.
